The End
by Jessica Dawn
Summary: There were many different ways that things could have gone that night, and many different implications for the war at large as a result. Who says that the end happened for him when everyone else believed it did? (Post-Cave) (Regulus-Centric)
1. Chapter 1

**The End**

 _Jessica Dawn_

* * *

"Let _go_ of me!" He yelled while hands grabbed at him. They held him down while he thrashed, fighting to get away from them. This couldn't be happening, not again. This was Heaven? Surely, it was bright white, and he knew he had to be dead, but this was not what he'd imagined when his grandfather had sat him down at such a young age to explain the various afterlifes he could move on to.

"Sir, you need to hold still. You've been through quite a lot and we'd really rather not sedate you." A man's voice spoke, louder than any of the others, but he had to keep fighting. These hands - the Inferi had dragged him down, grabbing at him the same way all of these people were. Was he reliving it? Was he going to spend eternity reliving his death in different ways?

"Just let me _go!_ " He yelled again, thrashing even more violently. He felt something slipped about his wrist, much tighter than any hand could grip him and he looked down. It looked just like his father's belt, though it wasn't being brought down on him, in fact it was holding him down to the bed that these people - no, these _monsters_ \- were trying to keep him on.

"Do you know where you are? What day it is? What is your name?"

"I am Regulus Arcturus Black of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, Heir to the Black Fortune and i _insist_ that you let me _go_!" He was practically screaming, while murmurs of 'delirium' and 'insanity' and 'clearly he's delusional' and 'psychotic break' were being spread around him. How did they not know who he was?

"Son you've had quite a journey, you're dehydrated and you nearly drowned - we're going to need your _real_ name in order to find your parents and get you back to them." That same mans voice from earlier had come about.

A woman's voice interrupted as they began to cut away his clothing, both soaking wet and torn to shreds, "He's got a tattoo. Left forearm."

"I've seen that before. Gang related, I assume. Last one was dead."

The murmurs started again, and he continued to fight, even as he felt another belt being slipped around his other wrist. "Please let me go. I've got to get back. I've got work to do. I'm not done. I _need_ to get back."

"You need to _rest_." It was the woman's voice, the one that had commented on his mark. He shook, trying to curl onto his side. The belts holding his wrists prevented it. Somebody had put a blanket over him, and he felt a pinch in his arm, but he didn't have the heart to look. He wasn't done yet. He had so much more to do.

* * *

"Sirius." Remus had said, standing by the window of his flat, staring out at the night sky, "Are you expecting anything?"

The taller man had shrugged, getting up from the couch and his television show to join him at the window, "No. I haven't ordered anything, and nobody ought to be writing me by owl. It's much safer to use muggle mail for anything that isn't urgent, and even then, we've got the floo set up."

"Are there other wizards in this building? Other than us?"

"None."

"Then why is there a tiny owl carrying a parcel towards us?" Remus had asked, his arms folded over his chest. When the owl got closer, he opened the window to allow it access. It wasn't a familiar bird to him, but when she looked to be about a block away, Sirius had started pacing.

"That's Adhara. What the hell is he doing sending me an owl?"

"Who?"

"My fucking-" He cut himself off, unable to use the word. That word was reserved for Remus, James, and Peter. He could not conitnue to call Regulus his brother in good conscience. "You know who. I don't know what he's thinking sending me anything."

The owl entered, no bigger than Remus' hand, the package she carried even slightly larger than she was herself. She put it down before taking perch on Sirius' shoulder, pecking at his ear. He swatted at her, trying to get her off, but she'd always been a bit of a beast. She wouldn't stop until Sirius had opened whatever it was Regulus had sent him. He only managed to wait a few minutes - until Adhara had drawn blood - before he picked it up, and realized quickly that his name hastily scrawled on the outside of the wrap was not written in Regulus' loopy scroll, or even in his rushed note-taking writing, but someone elses entirely, though it was clearly using Regulus' fine emerald ink. He tore it open, a piece of cloth tumbling to the couch where he sat alongside a piece of parchment.

He opened the cloth first, pulling a locket from him. Almost immediately he felt a sense of foreboding. This locket was not a good thing, and it wasn't going to bring good things to him. HIs grip on it tightened as he grabbed the parchment, reading it over.

 _'Mudblood Lover_

 _This needs to be destroyed and Kreacher has not the power to do it._

 _Master Regulus is gone._

 _The job belongs to you now.'_

"Well?" Remus asked, staring at him from across the room. He had been attempting to get the tiny owl to snack on some bread, but she was having none of it.

"Well..." Sirius had mused, knuckles turning white around the necklace. The smile that had occupied his features while watching the television, before the revelation that an owl was headed towards them had come to him, "Regulus is dead. And he's left me to clean up the mess he left behind."

* * *

 _Just a quick little drabble written in a few minutes on a friend's computer while she was otherwise occupied. I've been working on new chapters for three different stories, and I've got no clue where this one has come from. I've long had a suspicion about a name mentioned in the books, and I'm not quite sure yet if this is the work where I explore it. Leave a review - let me know if I should write a second chapter and keep this one going as well. xx Jessica_


	2. Chapter 2

**T** **he End**

 _Jessica Dawn_

 _(Line breaks haven't been working – the first word of every new scene will be_ _ **bolded and italicized**_ _)_

* * *

 _ **"So**_ what exactly is it that he wants you to do with it?" Remus asked, staring at the note on the table. Sirius had yet to relinquish his grip on the locket, barely glancing up from the chain at his friend. Remus closed his hand around his, trying to pry his fingers open. "You can put it down. It's just us here."

 _He's the spy._

Sirius pulled his hand away and shook his head, "I'm just going to have to figure that out, aren't I?"

"I can help you. If Kreacher is telling you to destroy it… Are you sure that's a good idea? I know you thought your brother was a Death Eater. Maybe it's something useful. In the fight." The look that Sirius shot Remus when he spoke now was cold, and in a sense, the werewolf couldn't blame him. He had after all just found out that his brother had died.

 _He's a werewolf, you can't trust him. The second he has a chance he'll rip your throat out._

"I have to do this alone." Sirius said solemnly, opening one of his fingers to catch a glimpse of the jeweled 'S' emblazoned on the front. He opened his hand then, holding it up by the chain before deciding that the safest place for it, lest Remus make a grab for it, was around his neck. The chain was long enough that he didn't need to unclasp it, and seemed to shrink magically when he had it on so that it sat just beneath his collar bone.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Sirius? You don't even know what it is." Remus had prodded, sitting down beside him and reaching forward as if to touch the locket. All he wanted was to get a better look at it, to have some idea of what they were dealing with.

Again, Sirius pulled away, this time smacking his hand away, "Would you listen to me for once? I need to do this alone." He paused for a moment, staring at Remus before he shook his head, "I'm going to bed. I want to be alone. Send Adhara back to my parents' house." He stood then, leaving Remus to handle the owl.

* * *

 _ **He**_ tried to roll over when he woke, only to find that there were still belts holding him firmly in place on the bed. They were wrapped around his wrists and ankles, judging from the fact that he couldn't change positions at all, as well as around his chest and waist. His robes were gone, and he vaguely recalled somebody cutting them from his body, but everything was so fuzzy. Even in the room in front of him, everything seemed to have a glow about it.

Was he dead now?

He arched as much as he could, looking down his body. The 'blanket' draped over his body looked more like a thin sheet of tin, all angles and corners and noisy when he tried to move, and it felt like his clothes were made out of some kind of parchment, not actual material. Still the most bothersome fact was that he was strapped to the bed. Was this some kind of torture? Something was stuck into his wrist, and another something was stuck into the crook of his elbow, though the belts ensured he couldn't bend it. It was awkwardly uncomfortable, and was it putting some kind of potion directly into his blood? He glanced upwards, following the cables that seemed to be attached to him, two bags of clear fluid hanging from a hook beside his bed.

He wracked his brain, trying to remember which potions were clear like this, and not caustic enough to break through what looked to be plastic containing them. Veritaserum? He knew how potent it was, and watching it drip down he was sure that he'd never be able to tell a lie again, not until he managed to brew the antidote. Why was he being given such a large dose, and why were they administering it directly into his bloodstream though? If he'd been unconscious, they certainly could have forced a bottle down his throat.

But then again, he was sure he was dead.

A woman came into the room then, checking one of the machines on the bedside table, and Regulus dared to open his mouth to try and speak, "I-"

"Oh _sweetheart…_ You must be parched… We're working on rehydrating you, but let me get you a glass of water. I know the sedation can give you some horrible cotton mouth." She smiled sweetly at him, pressing his hair back away from his face before she disappeared out of the room, returning a moment later with a paper cup. She pressed a button on the side of the bed that moved him into more of a sitting position, and held the glass to his lips, tipping it back slightly so he could have some.

For his part, he did find that he swilled it around his mouth before swallowing, and though it was water, it felt as though he was swallowing razorblades. Had he been wrong? Had that been the veritaserum? The woman must have noticed his wince, pressing another button on one of the consoles, and the second bag allowed a few drops to fall from it into his arm, "Don't worry. That will help with any of your pain." She explained, taking a seat beside his bed, "Are you feeling better than you were a couple of days ago? Can you tell me anything about yourself? You're quite the mystery, young man."

Regulus nodded slightly, near immediately feeling some of the pain leave his body, "My name is Regulus Arcturus Black, of the Noble and Most Ancie-"

The woman tutted, greying curls bouncing back and forth as she shook her head, "Whoever did this to you has sure done a number. Do you know what the date is? Where you are?"

At that he had to shake his head. Who knew how much time could have passed between when he'd entered the cave and now. To him it felt only that it could have been Christmas, but he could have been wrong. He could have estimated an entirely different amount of time, and truly, he wasn't sure where the cave was, but he dared to say, "Heaven?"

"Oh goodness, _no…_ Sweetheart…" Again, she reached forward, brushing his hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ears so that it wouldn't fall forward again, "Sweetheart, you haven't died. You were very lucky that you were found. Some fishermen found you floating in the Atlantic Ocean. It- I shouldn't be telling you this, but it seems as though somebody tried to drown you… Can you tell me what the tattoo on your arm means? Could it be related?"

The woman was kind, really, but he didn't know that she could help. She wouldn't accept his name as real, and any wizard knew who the Black family was. Nobody would deny a name like Regulus Black, as it had been handed down through generations. He glanced down at the mark on his arm, and was startled. To anybody that hadn't had to look at it every day it would have looked the same, black on pale skin, but Regulus could swear that the mark was lighter. It certainly didn't feel the way it ought to, though he figured some of that could be attributed to all of the potions they were administering to him. Something was wrong here, something was horribly, _horribly_ wrong, and he wasn't sure what it was, but he was sure that his mark had somehow changed. He didn't feel as connected to it, and he knew that it was lighter in colour, even if it was only a minute difference.

He shook his head. This woman wasn't going to believe a word that he said, and so he figured that ignorance was going to be best. It was also a good test to see whether or not the clear potion was veritaserum or not, as he doubted he had the mental strength to put up any fight against it. "I'm sorry. I don't remember."

"Don't be sorry sweetheart… We're all very grateful that you're even still alive. We're trying to find your family. Your picture has been on the news, and in all of the papers, and we're sure they're trying to get you back. You seem like a very sweet boy, I can't imagine that they aren't trying to find you. It's a new year now, hopefully it brings you a lot of change." The woman stood, pressed another button, and he felt himself growing tired, "You need your rest for now. Maybe by the time you wake up we'll have your mom and dad here for you."

He wanted to open his mouth and tell her that if they were putting him on television and newspapers it wasn't very likely, but instead he found his eyes drifting closed.

* * *

 _ **"And**_ he's actually going to do it? Why would he listen to that snake?" James had asked, having a mouthful of eggs. Remus had shown up that morning with a backpack and asked if he could stay on their couch for a few days, and was still in the process of explaining just why he wasn't staying in the flat with Sirius.

"I don't know if he's actually going to do it, but he's obviously having some kind of breakdown over Regulus' death. He asked me to move out this morning. He really shouldn't be alone though, don't you think?" The plate in front of Remus held far more bacon than eggs, he always had seemed to prefer more meat than anything else, and James didn't mind. They had plenty.

James tipped his chair back on two legs, tapping his chin while he thought about the situation, "So let me get this straight, Sirius gets a package from Regulus' house elf that has a necklace in it, telling him to destroy the necklace, and that Regulus is dead?"

"It said Regulus is gone, but yeah, judging from Sirius reaction – I mean he said he was dead."

"And then he put the necklace on and went to his room?"

"More or less."

"We should call a meeting with Dumbledore. He should know about that necklace. If a Death Eater wants us to destroy it…"

Remus cut him off, "A dead Death Eater. And we don't know how he died."

"Regardless. If a Death Eater – living or dead – wants something destroyed… We should probably do the opposite." James mused, folding his arms over his chest. "It will probably be something we need to kill Voldemort."

"I thought the same thing originally… but what if he really is trying to help us? Kreacher sent a letter to Sirius. That isn't nothing. He's a Black family house elf. If Sirius is disowned, Kreacher wouldn't even acknowledge him, let alone ask for his help." Remus reached forward for a piece of sausage, glancing up as Lily entered the kitchen, "Good mornin-"

"Again, James? I asked you to stop making bacon in the-" She turned green, pressing her hand to her mouth before running from the room, causing both men to raise their eyebrows.

"Why would anybody not want bacon in the morning? It's basically heaven."

James shrugged, "I love her, but birds can be right mental sometimes."

* * *

 _ **Sirius**_ splashed water on his face, needing the cold to try and shock him back into reality. He'd done his due diligence, checking in with everybody he could think to. He hadn't been to work since the beginning of December, and it was now the third of January. None of his friends from Ravenclaw had seen him, and there were no reports of anybody having seen him at any of the dinners held by Pureblood families over the winter holidays. Even his Mother had responded to the owl he'd sent, letting him know that no, Regulus had not been home for Christmas, and she hadn't seen hide nor hair of him since Orion's funeral.

He'd been shocked to hear from her, but he supposed that if she had lost Regulus she was going to have to reinherit him, lest their fortune languish, or be passed off to some other, less worthy family. He stared at his reflection, catching sight of every trait he shared with his brother. First his eyes – shaped the same though they'd always been a few shades different. He tugged at the corners of them, trying to get his cheekbones to mimic the way his brothers arched by moving his skin. Regulus' cheekbones were more prominent than Sirius', at least they had been the last time he'd passed him in the Ministry. He'd always thought that they'd looked more alike, that there was a point in time that their cheeks had filled out the same, and that they'd shared more than an eye shape and dimples. Regulus had always been smaller than him though, and maybe Sirius had just imagined it.

He cursed himself for his anger when he'd come to the conclusion that Regulus had joined the Death Eaters, for then he'd destroyed any pictures that he'd still had in his possession, and now that he wanted to go back and check his memory he was even more bothered.

 _Your brother is dead and you can't even remember what he looked like. You are a horrible brother, a horrible person. He died and you hadn't even spoken to him in a year. He died thinking that you hate him._

He splashed more water on his face and grabbed for the glass that he'd balanced on the edge of the sink, tipping the last of the firewhiskey into his mouth. He grimaced, dimples prominent, and then punched the mirror in front of him, images of his brother coming back to his mind again. How long would his mother wait before announcing his death and having a service? How long would it be until she reached out to him, to coax him back into the family?

 _She only wants you back because she has no other option. Her spare died._

He shook his head again, trying to rid himself of all of his guilty thoughts and trudged out of the bathroom, and back to the living room. It was nearly seven, and _The Professionals_ would be coming on after the evening news. He turned on the television, the newsanchor reciting what sounded like the end of a telephone number before saying good night, and he settled on the couch for an hour with Cowley, Doyle, and Bodie.

* * *

 _ **"Again,**_ _anyone with information on this boy is urged to call the hotline set up at 113 9873 376. Thank you, and Good Night."_

The nurse clicked off the television and laid his bed flat again, "See Dimples? You're becoming a bonafide celebrity. The whole country has seen your face on the news. Someone is going to come for you soon." There had been a shift change, and the grey haired nurse from earlier – the kind one – had gone home for the night. The girl here now was much younger, chocolate coloured hair cut short, though it didn't flatter her face. Her uniform was an almost uncomfortable shade of pink, and Regulus cursed the fact that there was really nothing else in the room to pay attention to. The girl was rude, and yet she seemed reluctant to leave.

"Nobody is coming for me. Nobody who knows me, no… Nobody who cares about me will ever see my picture on the news. You should just let me go." He said quietly.

"No can do, Dimples-" He cringed at her appointed nickname. He would much prefer to have the older woman call him Sweetheart all day over that. "We figure you can't be older than seventeen, which means you're underage. You're also a little-" She made a knocking noise and tapped the side of her head, "messed up, so it would be irresponsible of us to put you in the street. Why don't you tell me more about the world you've made up. Maybe some part of it is actually real. Maybe you'll remember a name or something."

"Don't you have anything else to do?"

She shook her head, "I've been assigned to watch you all night."

Just his luck. He supposed though, that the statute for secrecy didn't really apply here. After all, they didn't believe anything he said. Someone earlier had come in and explained to him that he had created this other identity and this other world as a reaction to the stress of the events that had led to him floating in the ocean. "What is your name?" He asked of her, and she looked genuinely surprised.

"My name is Frances."

"Well Frances, if I had my wand, I would stun you so that I could spend my night in peace." He muttered lowly, tugging at the restraints on his wrists.

"Your wand, yeah?" She commented, leaning towards him, "And just what kind of things does your wand do?"

He huffed, "It's a _magic_ wand. I use it to use my magic."

She'd laughed, leaning back in her chair again, "Right. You can do magic, and I'm the Queen of England."

* * *

 _ **She**_ hadn't had the heart to do more than what was required of her by society in a little more than a month. She'd shown up to the dinners and parties, and had invited her nieces over for Christmas, but other than that, she'd spend most of her days in bed. Even her own son hadn't been home since the day they'd buried his father.

Of course, when he'd left Hogwarts and taken a job at the Ministry he'd gotten his own home, and she'd only assumed that he was there, throwing himself into his work as his way of grieving. Her perfect little boy just had to be dealing with things in his own way. It simply wasn't like him not to check in on her though.

When she'd received an owl from Sirius however, she hadn't known how to respond. Of course Sirius hadn't heard from Regulus – Regulus was forbidden to contact him. In one sense she was glad to hear that Regulus hadn't gone soft and tried to make amends now that he was technically the headboard their family, but on the other…

Walburga wasn't stupid. When she'd blasted Sirius off the tree she hadn't completely forgotten about him. She knew that he'd graduated with decent marks and that he had a flat in London. She also knew that one of his friends lived with him and that he was training to become an Auror. He was due to finish his program sometime this year, which meant that he was spending a lot of time at Ministry headquarters. Aurors in Training were required to shadow full fledged Aurors for a period of six months prior to completing the program. Regulus had worked with Orion in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. If Sirius was in the Ministry on a nearly daily basis and he hadn't seen Regulus in a while…

She forced herself out of bed, though she didn't bother to change. The only other beings in the house were all either portraits or house elves, and all of them would forgive her for her current state. She practically flew into the drawing room, the Black Family Tree tapestry covering the walls and she moved to the familiar corner where her own little branch was. Her worst fears were confirmed now when she read the lettering beneath her son's portrait.

 **REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK**

 **1961 – 1979**

Naturally, Walburga Black had shrieked and sobbed, throwing herself onto an armchair nearby.

* * *

 _ **Isaiah**_ Cochrane was an exceptional wizard. He could handle his own, and it was completely beyond him why, as a member of the Order, he had been under strict instructions from Professor Dumbledore himself to lay low. He was not to draw any attention to himself, which was saying quite a bit for this particular Gryffindor. He'd been out of Hogwarts nearly five years, and felt he had yet to do anything of importance in the war against Voldemort. Being muggleborn, it meant more to him than most of the Order that Voldemort be taken down.

Ideally, he'd do it himself. It would be poetic, really. A muggleborn Gryffindor finally putting an end to the pureblood mania that was seeping the United Kingdom. Instead, he was stocking shelves at the local Sainsbury's, his wand on top of his dresser at home, collecting dust. He'd inherited a townhouse in Greenhills Village from his aunt when she'd died, and rather than selling it and leaving the country the moment he graduated, he'd stayed. Dumbledore had urged him to move somewhere a little bit more remote, but Isaiah had grown attached to the house, and to the yappy little dog that had been left with him. He'd put roots down here, and he wasn't about to run when he was part of the reason there even was a war to begin with.

He'd just sat down with his beans on toast, intent on reading the Daily Prophet evening edition that had been waiting for him while he listened to the muggle news in the background. His feet ached from being on them all day, but he wasn't going to use his magic for something trivial like that. He felt he'd live a far better life if he kept things at a happy medium. Given that Dumbledore had basically ordered him into hiding, it meant that he was living life in a much more muggle manner, and really he didn't mind.

Nothing of importance caught his attention, either in the paper or from the television, not by the time he'd finished with his dinner and the Daily Prophet anyways, and he had been just about to turn off the telly and see if he couldn't find a good scrimmage in the football field outside his front door to join when a familiar face caught his attention on the screen. He'd had to scratch his head and really study it, but he was more than certain – the boy on the screen was Sirius Black's younger brother. And if what the reporter had said was true, he'd been found nearly dead in the ocean, with no recollection of who he was. He was dialing the number given into the telephone before he could even think twice about laying low. He was going to deliver a Death Eater to the Order.

* * *

 _I really had no intention of updating this so quickly. What was going to be a little drabble has quickly taken over my imagination, and this is the result. If work had been a little bit less busy today this honestly would have been longer. If anybody could give me some clue as to how to insert a line break into my chapters I would greatly appreciate it. I promise that they've been there all along, it simply seems that they aren't being accepted by ff._

 _I generally don't like to use original characters in my stories, at least not any that will be of any importance, but one was needed this time around. Isaiah is an old roleplay character of mine, and if you recognize him, I must implore that you message me, because I miss all of you._

 _You will have another update soon (hopefully with line breaks) - Jessica_


	3. Chapter 3

**The End**

 _Jessica Dawn_

(Thank you, MissSadieKane) 

* * *

"Lily-flower you've been sick all week. Are you sure we shouldn't go down to St. Mungos? Have you tried a pepper-up potion?" James was leaning against the wall outside the bathroom, genuinely concerned for his wife It almost felt like clockwork, every five to six hours she made a dash for the toilet, and then grew irritated with him. She'd even grown angry with Remus when she insisted that his snoring had been the catalyst for her nausea early one morning.

The only response he received from the other side of the door was more gagging, and he had to swallow thickly to keep himself from getting sick in sympathy. After a quiet few moments she finally answered quietly, "If I'm still sick tomorrow, I would like to go to my doctor."

It was a win for James, even if she didn't want to go to St. Mungos, seeing anyone at all, even a muggle doctor was better than staying at home clutching the toilet. The door clicked open, Lily had reached behind herself to undo the lock, leaning back against the wall, pressing the side of her face into the cool tile. James grabbed a cloth from the counter, wiping her lips before he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "I'm sorry that you've been feeling this way love"

Lily nodded, pulling him down to sit beside her and rested her head on his shoulder. She knew what was going on. She'd have had to have been a complete idiot not to have figured it out by now, but she was terrified to tell James. They'd discussed this before, and agreed that until Voldemort had been dealt with, and the war was over, they weren't going to have any children. The thought that she would be sidelined while she carried a child wasn't something that she could live with, not really. This was her war to fight, for her own freedom. Alice Longbottom had found out a month ago that she'd been pregnant, and she hadn't even been at an Order meeting since then, and Rosaline Davies had also been left out when she'd found out a week later. Of course, Alice had been left out by Frank, who was ecstatic at the thought that they were going to have a baby. Lily didn't have a clue who the father of Rosaline's child could be, but she wouldn't have been surprised if he'd played a role in her disappearance over the last few weeks as well.

No. She wasn't going to allow them to cast her to the side. She could be careful, and she would still play an important role. She could handle it all. She practically had to, now that she was going to be a mother.

* * *

Something in her had snapped. Instead of spending days in bed, now she spent them in the drawing room, willing the tapestry to change – for it to have been a mistake. The tapestry didn't make mistakes though, it had been enchanted to be highly attuned to the Black family, detecting their magic from the second they were conceived. It ensured that any children born to them that were worth claiming were known of immediately. The true squibs had never had a place on the tapestry to begin with, and there were several that Walburga had known of.

There were also instances like her former uncle Marius, who though he had magic, it had been barely enough for his name to show up, and when there was no accidental magic to speak of, and no letter to Hogwarts had shown up, he'd been blasted of the tree and abandoned. What was the point in keeping a child in the house only to disgrace the family?

Rumours had plagued Walburga and Orion when they'd failed to produce an heir immediately after marrying. Infertility they'd all said, never knowing that she'd carried two babies that had failed to bud on the tapestry. Even now she could see the little bud beneath Narcissa's name – she'd in fact been the first in the family to find out that she was expecting, having sent a congratulatory gift before Narcissa herself had even known. No thought was given to her two children that had failed to be born with magic Sirius was the first, and he'd turned his back on the family, but now that Regulus was gone...

Something had to be done. Their name could not die out now. It didn't seem as though the tapestry was going to change and give her back her perfect son, and so she really had no other choice If the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black was to survive this war, she needed to reinherit Sirius and have him produce an heir.

* * *

"What'd I tell you, Dimples?" Frances was speaking before she'd even come into the room, causing him to groan. He didn't have the patience for this particular woman right now. "I told you somebody would see your picture and recognize you... How you managed to get all the way down here from Glasgow though, I'll never know."

Regulus perked up slightly at what she had to say, though he wasn't sure if he was excited to have been found, or terrified. If it happened to be a Death Eater, surely he and everyone else in this hospital would be dead soon, for real this time. But who else could it have been? He couldn't think of any Death Eater offhand that would have seen him on the muggle news, or in the muggle newspapers, but were they really beneath watching those outlets if it meant keeping an eye on their enemies? He supposed there could have been a Death Eater that had been instructed to monitor these things, but what did that mean for him now?

On the other hand, his brother was fond of muggle things... but what would his brother have been doing in Glasgow? Didn't Sirius live in London? "Did this person give you their name? He asked because he simply had to know what was headed his way.

"Sorry, Dimples. He asked us not to tell you. He's hoping that you'll recognize him when he gets here, I suppose. He did tell us that your name is Reg though, so I guess your 'magic' name isn't that far off. I wonder what Reg is short for though? Reginald? Regis?" The girl laughed and shook her head, patting the back of his hand, "I think I'll stick to Dimples. It fits you better, but hey – at least now we can put a name on your chart."

Trust this muggle to think that She had no idea about the war going on around her – but still he was bothered Who did he know in Glasgow that would bother to get in touch over him He couldn't think of anybody offhand. "Are they coming here? Are they coming to get me?"

Frances laughed again, smirking, "He's taking the train down right now. He should be here by the end of the night We told him that you probably wouldn't be released for a few days, but he insisted on staying by your side. Said he didn't want to let you out of his sight."

That news only served to panic Regulus even more, and he turned his head away from her, closing his eyes. He had to figure out how to escape, and he had to do it fast.

* * *

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Remus? Gumdrop?" The headmaster had asked, offering his bowl of candy.

Remus shook his head and Dumbledore put the bowl back down on the corner of his desk, popping one of the candies into his own mouth. Remus took a seat, fidgeting nervously, "Sirius received a package several nights ago, from his brother's house elf. He surveyed the Headmaster, who simply continued to chew on his candy, paying attention to what Remus had to say. "Regulus Black is dead."

Dumbledore nodded slightly, processing the news quickly, "It's a shame, he was a very bright boy. I had hoped that he would have come to his senses a little sooner- He could have been a great asset to our side."

Remus' lips drew into a thin line, "I'm not sure that he didn't come to his senses. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. Kreacher sent something to Sirius and told him to destroy it... He won't tell you of it himself, or I wouldn't have come here. Grief is... Hitting him hard."

"You suspect the item is-"

"Involved with Voldemort, yes. I'm just not sure how involved or to what effect."

Dumbledore nodded, reaching across the desk for a bottle of ink and quill, scrawling something down on a piece of parchment in front of him He tucked it away before Remus could get a look at it and rose, rounding his desk to put a hand on Remus' shoulder, "Let's go for a walk. I daresay it is a bit dusty in here."

For his part, Remus stood, though he didn't particularly want to traipse through the castle discussing Order business. "It might be dusty, Headmaster, but it is also quite private."

"Have you any more private matters that you wish to discuss?"

"I think that most things discussed lately would be better considered private. You never know who might be listening," he commented quietly, even as he was steered from the Headmaster's office and back down the spiral staircase.

"I am not naive enough to think that there aren't Death Eaters in these halls, Remus. As it stands the only people that ought to be in the halls at this time of night are the professors themselves, and prefects wrapping up their nightly rounds. As I do not believe any of my staff to be working against me, it is still a safe place for us to speak."

"Forgive me or saying so professor-" Remus had started, remembering his own days at the school, and how frequently he was in the halls with the other Marauders, particularly when they weren't meant to be in them. In their early years, they'd hidden beneath James' invisibility cloak, and in their later years, behind a prefect's badge and later a Head Boy title. There was always something that they were able to hide behind, whether they were visible with an excuse or not, and it simply left him with a slight chuckle,"But simply because students aren't meant to be in the halls at this hour doesn't mean that they won't be I seem to recall-"

"Oh yes, I do recall as well that some students felt as though the rules didn't entirely apply to them, but I have no reason to believe that there are any more invisibility cloaks in the halls or that there are a group of students as imaginative as you and your friends were in your day that would want to eavesdrop on anything that we have to say" Albus stepped through the gargoyle as it pulled to the side, taking a left to head down the corridor, "Now, you say that Regulus Black is dead Has this been confirmed?"

"As confirmed as it can possibly be. I understand he was quite close with his house else, and it was Kreacher who informed Sirius." Remus had said quietly, never truly trusting the halls of Hogwarts.

"And we've had no battles recently – none with recorded losses on either side. If he had been killed by one of our own, we would know."

"Sir, are you suggesting that Regulus Black was killed by Lord Voldemort?" Remus had asked, though he was much more careful to keep his voice down than the headmaster was. This truly wasn't something that he wanted to run through the school. This was the first year that Regulus hadn't been a student here himself, and he still had many friends that were here, or so he would have assumed It wasn't a rumour that would be smart to be found at the head of.

"Is there any reason that we're aware of that that might be a possibility? Isn't it just as likely that he might have fallen ill or been in an accident"

Remus shook his head, trying to remember the few times that Sirius had spoken of his brother in the last few years, but struggling to recall very much, certainly he couldn't recall any specific details that would have given them a lead on what could have happened, "Sirius... I remember him saying once that he didn't think Regulus had it in him. He thought he was in over his head."

"Would he have tried to leave?"

"Sir, I won't pretend to have known Regulus as well as Sirius did, or even as well as some of his professors might have known him. He was just another student here to me." He walked beside him following the headmaster down a flight of stairs and into a narrow hallway. "I can't imagine what he might have done in his last days."

Dumbledore nodded and the two lapsed into silence as they paced through the halls of the school. The older man had always been quiet, but it had never unnerved Remus like it did tonight. The headmaster was working his way deeper into the halls of the school, an area unknown to most students, but Remus was not most students. Remus was a Marauder, and had spent much of his seven years here exploring the castle in it's fullest. "Have you somewhere to stay tonight? Is anyone expecting you?"

"I've been staying with the Potters, sir. They wouldn't think anything amiss if I were to spend a night away. I could send an owl if there was something you wanted me to do."

"Just offering you a bed, Mr. Lupin. I understand that people with you affliction often have a hard time finding lodging." Dumbledore had offered, and he knew that they were headed for the residential quarters of the castle. Nobody had stayed in them back when he'd been a student, but now he could see candlelight beneath the cracks in a couple of the doors.

It wasn't for the fact that Remus truly needed a place to stay that he nodded and allowed himself to be led into a room, it was more the fact that he wanted to know who else Dumbledore was keeping close.

* * *

 _My Dearest._

 _It has been far too long since I have seen you. We can never allow this much time to pass between our meetings again. I understand that the situation that we both find ourselves in is dire, and I know that it is difficult to arrange a meeting, but I will be in Hogsmeade Village this coming Sunday, and I hope to see you there._

 _We have urgent matters that we need to discuss, and I know you are supposed to be keeping to yourself, but I simply cannot wait any longer. I myself am no longer staying in my family home, but that puts much less distance between us than you know. I think of you often, and what our lives may be when all of this is over._

 _Please, darling, don't be reckless, and remember that I am waiting for you. I will be at Scrivenshaft's, and you will approach me and ask if I've seen the bottomless inkwells. We will retire to Madam Puddifoots and then to a room at the Hogs Head. Two months is far too long for me to have waited to see you._

 _Frankly, I wouldn't mind if you brought some of those fizzy cola bottles that you were so fond of at school, or some of those curly wurlys you used to spoil me with. I can't explain why, other than that I miss you, but I've been craving them something fierce lately. Of course, nothing will be better than being able to spend an evening with you, if you're able to visit. I'll be in the village all afternoon, and I do plan to spend most of it at the quill shop._

 _I love you, and I miss you terribly. I cannot wait to be in your strong arms again._

 _\- Rosaline_

* * *

He was far too drunk for this, yet still he found himself standing in front of the mirror, fidgeting with a set of dress robes even as he swayed where he stood, trying desperately to get the collar to turn down. The locket was tucked beneath his shirt where it couldn't be seen, lest anyone try and claim it from him, and in truth, he couldn't believe that this was what he was preparing for, yet here he was.

Sirius Black was getting dressed to have dinner with his mother.

His friends would have laughed and clapped his back at having gone so far as to get dressed up for a simple verbal joke like this one. _'You let him down.'_ This wasn't a joke. He owed as much as this to his brother. He couldn't save him now, it was too late, but he could at least try and see to it that the things that mattered to Regulus, his family, and the House of Black, he could ensure that those things were safe for him.

He was overanazlying his appearance, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He probably should have waited until dinner to begin drinking, but he hadn't seen his mother in so long, and he could only guess how much the deaths of her husband and son had hit her. _'You weren't there.'_ He reached up, hastily combing his hair back with his fingers into what he could barely call a ponytail, tying it back with a rubber band to hold it away from his face. His mother had never approved of his long hair, but short of cutting it, this was the best he could manage at a moments notice.

 _'You aren't the son she wants, you're just the only one left. She still can't stand you.'_ And be that as it may, it was the best either one of them had. As far as he could understand it now, they simply had to make the best of this situation and run with it, do their best to remain mutually beneficial to the other and simply agree to get along, for the sake of their family, _'For Regulus.'_

Regulus had spent his fifth year at Hogwarts desperately trying to repair their broken family. He truly wanted nothing more than to be able to openly accept his brother, and to have dinner at home with the four of them without it ending in some kind of argument, and really, _'Was that so much of him to ask for?'_

It was with that thought that he'd stepped away from the mirror, and marched over to the door of his apartment. He shouldn't have stepped into the hall in dress robes, given that he was surrounded by muggles, but all he had to do was dart down the stairs and then apparate to Grimmauld.

Fortunately, he didn't run into anyone on the way, and soon found himself watching as numbers 11 and 13 parted to make way for number 12.

* * *

"Forty-six, my Lord. Accounting for those who are currently on missions, and thusly excused from summons." Her voice was sickly sweet, and nothing at all the way she spoke to anyone else, no this type of admiration, even at such a simple request as a head count, was reserved only for the Dark Lord, for whom she curtseyed.

The man in front of her shook his head, "We should be forty-eight, including those that have been excluded. Run role."

She nodded, and with a wave of her wand a list glittered in front of her, "Avery," she was met with a response of 'my Lord,' which was clearly not directed at her, repeating the name again and met with the same response. "Black," She knew her cousin would answer, knew that he had to have been among the first to answer their summons, and yet the space around her was silent. She looked around the circle, clearing her throat, as though she had not been clear enough, or they had forgotten the order in which their names appeared on the list, "Black."

Again, the space around them was silent, murmurs creeping through the masked crowd. There were few Death Eaters who could be identified by surname alone, but there was only one person who bore the surname Black that even qualified to be amongst their numbers. She swallowed, daring to glance up at the man at the top of the circle, who simply nodded for her to continue as he pressed his wand into his own left forearm. She felt her arm burn as she rushed through the rest of the list. She'd reached "Travers," when she'd been interrupted by the familiar 'pop' of someone apparating, and then a yelp.

" _Crucio,"_ Voldemort had spoken, his wand pointed directly at their new arrival, who writhed on the ground, crying out in pain. He held the curse for a solid minute before lifting it, "Black?"

"N-N-No s-sir, Wo-W-"

 _"Silencio,"_ the man on the ground was silenced, his insolent stuttering cut off before he could embarrass himself any further. "Let that be a lesson to you. The other company you keep may tolerate waiting for you to show face, but I do not. When you are summoned, you arrive on time. Understood?"

The man nodded, struggling to his feet to fall back into formation, clutching his left arm to his chest.

"Lestrange? Go and find Black, or find out what has happened to him. Do not come back to me empty handed."

"Yes sir," She nodded, curtseying once more before she apparated away.

* * *

The sky was growing dark outside his window and panic was beginning to set in. Fear sat hard in his throat while he tried to use wandless, nonverbal magic to escape the leather straps holding him prisoner. Whomever was coming was not a friend, no matter which side they fought on. It was either a Death Eater coming to kill him or a member of the Order... Who would also likely kill him. He tugged at his restraints, testing to see if his silent magic had worked and frowned.

"Oh _Sweetheart.._ " the patronizing voice of the older nurse came and he felt her hand on the back of his, gently petting him. It was oddly comforting, and made him frown at the same time as he looked up at her. In just a few days she'd been more affectionate than any of his family had ever been. "I'd take them off if I were allowed, but you and I both know that you're a flight risk."

She had no idea just how right she was. He was a flight risk, but it was best for everyone on the premises if he went now, and put as much distance as he could between himself and this place instead of waiting for whomever was coming. He couldn't tell her that though, letting his gaze fall from her pale blue eyes and back to the window.

"I know it must be scary for you, but this is a good thing. You'll be home in a few days with your friend, and he can help set you right... It must be terrifying, not knowing who you are or where you came from." She was wrong there, but who was he to correct her? He had given them the correct information and been deemed temporarily insane. Stupid muggles. "If you'd like, maybe it would be easier for you if you were sleeping when he got here... I could see about getting you something to help with that, and then you won't have to meet your friend until morning..." She'd trailed off, her voice soft but her hands softer, one still rhythmically stroking the back of his hand while the other pushed his hair back out of his face, "Maybe something will click back into place in your brain overnight... Would you like me to see if I can do that for you Sweetheart?" She asked, offering him a smile.

He considered her offer for a moment before nodding – At least if he were asleep he wouldn't see it coming, and he would only have to feel guilty about the deaths of all of the muggles around him until the medicine kicked in and he actually fell asleep. He closed his eyes when she left the room. Sleep couldn't possibly come fast enough.

* * *

 _So? How was it? Please let me know what you thought by leaving a review, or sending me a private message. Any thoughts on how things might unfold? Ideas as to what might happen next? I know this was a bit of a slow chapter, but I promise I'm setting up for some more excitement soon. Reviews genuinely do encourage me to write faster, and who knows, if it's signed I might just drop a scene from the next chapter into your inbox to get some feedback as I work._

 _On another note, my apologies for Remus' scene in this chapter being so long and slow, but there were several things that I needed to establish now with that bit. Hopefully it will all make sense in the next few chapters._

 _\- Jessica_


	4. Chapter 4

**The End**

 _Jessica Dawn_

* * *

 _Kreacher had apparated them to, what seemed to Regulus, a cliff. What on earth had the Dark Lord brought his house elf here for? "_ Master Regulus must bleed on the rock for the cave to open." _Because of course there had to be a blood sacrifice. Regulus cringed and drew his wand, dragging it across his palm with a muttered incantation and splitting the skin there wide open. He certainly wasn't focused enough at the moment to control his power, and he certainly wasn't planning on surviving very much longer._

 _He'd known that this was likely a suicide mission the moment he'd decided to undertake it. If he didn't die here, in whatever task lay ahead of him, he was definitely going to be killed soon after, when his betrayal came to light. Neither side would have him after this, there was only light and dark, no room for grey. He pressed his bleeding hand to the rock and watched as it slid open. Kreacher stepped inside quickly, crossing to the shore to grab a chain, pulling on it as hard as he could._

 _Regulus shook his head slightly, "_ Kreacher, enough. I can do this." _He said, crossing the pebbly shore to grab hold of the chain, hauling the small boat out of the water himself. It was exhausting, but he had to press on. No man deserved immortality, not in this most literal sense. Men were meant to achieve immortality through their legacy, the way that his forefathers had done, through their acheivements – not through magical means meant to prevent their death._

 _"_ Kreacher and Master Regulus must ride the boat to the island," _the elf's voice wavered, knowing just what was about to happen and not looking forward to imbibing the potion again._

 _Regulus climbed into the boat, pulling Kreacher in before it could depart and rode in silence. He had no intention of forcing his friend to go through that again. No, his elf would never again have to endure that_ poison. _Regulus was sure of that. He was going to drink the potion himself. It didn't take a long time for the boat to arrive on the opposite shore, nestled in the pebbles that comprised the island, and he straightened his robes as he approached the pedestal. He stared through it for a moment, seeing the locket at the bottom and wondering for a moment if the one in his pocket was a good enough fake._

 _He pulled it from his pocket and handed it to Kreacher, crouching down to be on level with the elf, "_ Kreacher... No matter what I say, or what happens to me, I want you to make sure that I drink the potion in it's entirety-"

"NO! Kreacher cannot – Master Regulus the potion is so horrid, Kreacher will do this instead, Master Regulus cannot. Kreacher cannot allow Master Regulus to allow such harm to come to him he is sworn to The Noble and Most A-" _Kreacher had practically wailed when Regulus began his orders, but was cut off when Regulus pressed a hand to his mouth._

 _"_ Enough, Kreacher. You have done this once, and I would not even imagine doing this to you again. What I am telling you is an order. No matter what happens in here right now, I will not survive this war." _Regulus had begun again, shaking his head. Was Kreacher crying? He moved his hand from his mouth to wipe at his cheek, finding his hand wet. In an instant he was crying himself, though he found himself urging Kreacher to remain silent so that he could continue with what he had to say._

"Kreacher you must understand, I have made some terrible decisions and have learned so much in the last few years of my life. Everything that happens from now on – the end of this war is dependant on this moment. You have been so much more than a house elf to me, you have been my very best friend, and you could not have made me any more proud than I am right now." _He found that he had to reach up now to wipe at his own eyes, as Kreacher blurred in front of him and his tears obscured his vision._

 _"_ I am prepared for this. Once I have finished the potion, you must exchange the lockets. Take the one that He placed there with you, and leave this cave. Do not come back for me. Do whatever you must to destroy it – That locket cannot exist. Nod if you understand," _he nodded alongside his elf,_ "If you cannot destroy it yourself, you must swear to me that you will send that locket to somebody who can."

"Kreacher swears, he will see the locket destroyed," _the elf's voice wavered again, cracking and breaking as he was given permission to speak,_ "But Mast-"

"Kreacher, I will not be talked out of this. Promise me that you will have me finish the potion."

 _Kreacher stared at him, shaking his head, though he found himself already pinching at his ears, unable to ignore an order from his master. He squeezed his eyes closed, his voice barely above a whisper,_ "Kreacher promises. Master Regulus will finish the potion."

* * *

"Your hair is much too long. I will not have my son gallivanting with a ponytail. It's hardly fashionable." She was complaining. Truthfully, it was much more than he'd expected of her. He'd expected her to sob into his arms, mourning the perfect son she'd lost, but it seemed as though she had already moved on to correcting the son she was left with. There was no talk of his father or his brother, if anything, it felt much more like a staff meeting. If he chose to look at it in that way it would probably make things much easier. They did after all both have a job to do.

Hers seemed to be to get him ready for what was expected of him. Regulus had had years to prepare for it, and now the job was going to be rushed. _'None of them care about you, they only care about the name... If you didn't owe it to_ him _you wouldn't be here,'_

"Are you listening to me? You're much too skinny, you need to eat. Krea-" She stopped as though she had choked on the word, and he knew that it was only because Kreacher had practically been _his_ elf since the moment he'd been born.

 _'Cradle to grave,'_ he thought bitterly, shaking his head, "Mother, I promise that the way I look right now is not how I intend to carry myself. I've lost weight as a result of work, and I simply haven't had the time for a hair cut." His voice betrayed him. The words he spoke weren't his own, but instead what he would have imagined Regulus would have said were he confronted with the argument she put forth.

She tutted – she _actually_ tutted – and drew her wand, "You are a _wizard,_ Sirius Orion Black. Time is no excuse for poor hygiene. You'll find the time to get it sorted out properly soon, I'm sure." Had he been feeling like himself he would have protested, instead, he simply stooped down after she'd cast a severing charm and picked his hair up from the ground, nodding his thanks. "If I could charm some more muscle onto your bones, I would. I've definitely got my work cut out for me, finding a suitable wife for you."

He had to stop the train of thought she was following, awkwardly reaching up to drag his fingers through his newly cropped hair, "Do you not think that we ought to plan a funeral before we plan a wedding? He's certainly deserving of one."

Her entire demeanor changed. Her skin seemed to pale at just the thought, and her eyes were suddenly lifeless. Her shoulders fell, and Sirius ultimately felt guilty for even mentioning it. "And what are we to bury? What if he comes back? What if it's wrong?"

It's. She'd said it's instead of we're, and that thought had him turning on heel, knuckles white around his ponytail as he stalked off to the drawing room to see the tapestry for himself. If she was claiming that _it_ was wrong, that meant that _it_ had changed. If _it_ had changed – well with as much as Sirius himself knew about the tapestry, if it said that he was dead, then he was dead. He took the stairs to the second floor two at a time, hesitating when his hand was on the knob.

Did he really want to know that it was right? He already believed it – the locket was heavy on his neck, a constant reminder – so what was the tapestry going to confirm exactly? Only what he already knew, and it was only going to upset him even more. The tapestry was only going to finalize it.

Walburga brushed past him, shaking her own head as she gripped his hand and turned the knob, "I haven't checked in a couple of hours. It might have changed by now," was all she said, though it seemed to him like she wasn't speaking to anyone other than herself. It was as though she was in a daze and hadn't even noticed him standing there, other than as something between herself and the tapestry that she so desperately wanted to see.

He didn't move into the room until he'd heard her wail, stepping in to see her throw herself into an armchair. _This_ was more what he'd been expecting. The only thing that did surprise him was that he wasn't entirely sure how to respond to the fact that his mother – _'the one that disowned you'_ \- was openly breaking in front of him. His family had never been emotional, they were all very matter-of-fact and businesslike, even in their relations with each other. Regulus had probably died having never been hugged by anyone since the two of them had been small children. He shook his head, moving over to their corner of the tapestry first – a scorch where he had once been, and beside him was a small portrait of his brother, along with his name, birth year, and the part he'd never seen before – the year of his death.

He wouldn't cry. He refused to cry, especially in front of her. He felt a flash of anger, turning towards her, "We're holding a funeral, with or without his body. You can't spend the rest of your life waiting for him to come back when it isn't going to happen. Do you hear me, mother? Regulus is dead. You can worry about finding a wife for me that we both agree on after you've done right by him. He did right by you his entire life, and if I had to guess it's probably what killed him. You owe him as much as a proper send-off."

She sobbed for a moment longer, shaking her head as she stood and crossed over to the tapestry again, focussing once more on the small corner that had once housed all four of them, and where now there was only one and a burn. She lifted her wand, and Sirius stepped forward to stop her, though he really wasn't sure just what she planned on doing. For all he knew she could have been planning on burning Regulus off of the tree as well – disowning him for daring to die before he gave her a grandchild to carry on her name. She shrugged his hand off of her arm and pressed her wandtip to the wall – to where Sirius' own face had once resided, and with a soft incantation he saw himself reappear.

* * *

"I didn't know you grew up in Cornwall, Lily..." James had commented, glancing around the town square that she'd apparated them both into.

Lily shook her head, "I didn't. My doctor works at the hospital here now. I'd much rather see him than a healer at St. Mungos." This was something that she wanted to experience as normally as possible, and while part of her wanted James in the room when she found out, that was where this wasn't a very muggle experience at all. With being caught up in the middle of war, she knew that James wouldn't be as excited as any expectant father should be. The two of them were part of the front lines of this war, and it didn't seem as though there was an end in sight. She didn't want him to remember this as something that he was anything but thrilled for.

"Are you sure you don't want me to hold your hand?" He asked, giving her hand a squeeze as they rounded a corner and the hospital came into view, "I can be a very supportive husband, you know."

"I know that, James, but you also don't know very much about muggle hospitals. I can handle this, and I'll explain it to you after." She pressed a kiss to his cheek before levelling him with a stare, "Promise me though, that if you're going to smoke one of those disgusting cigarettes that you think I don't know about, you'll do it outside? They aren't allowed in the hospital."

James had stared at her, his jaw slacked. He'd done everything he could to hide the horrible habit from her, but then his Lily had always known all of his secrets. He really should have known better than to try and hide anything from her. He gave her a quick kiss before she pulled away, heading up to the hospital and through it's doors. Of course, he pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and withdrew one quickly. His hands were shaking from the cold as he put it to his lips, fumbling with the muggle lighter that Sirius had given him several weeks ago. If Lily knew about his dirty habit he was going to have to quit. He didn't see much other option, it wasn't even half as thrilling now that he knew she knew. It was really just something he used to occupy his time, and to de-stress with. It certainly wasn't something that he needed.

He exhaled, moving to stand closer to the building with his free hand in his pocket. He leaned against the white brick, letting his head fall back until it too was pressed against the wall. He certainly hoped that whatever was wrong with Lily her doctor would be able to help with. He didn't know very much about medicine, but he certainly knew that getting sick like this – _like clockwork –_ was not a good thing. They'd been married a little over a year now with little to celebrate due to the war. Getting sick wasn't something that they could celebrate either. Sure they were happy in their downtime, the fleeting moments that they weren't worried about work, or blood status, or Order business. He took another drag from the cigarette, blowing it out quickly. A cab pulled up in front of him then, and he wasn't entirely sure why it had caught his attention so much. He really was distracted thinking about his wife, but maybe it was just easier to focus on whatever was going on in front of him.

He had not been expecting a familiar face to step out of the door when it swung open, and he found himself tossing the cigarette down and stamping it out, "Isaiah? Izzat you?" he had to ask. He hadn't seen or heard from the Scot since he'd left school, and Cornwall was definitely the last place he'd thought he'd ever come across him again.

The man in question shook his head, crossing the short distance to James quickly. "You never saw me. I wasn't here." He spoke in low tones, his accent thicker than James remembered it being. He was bigger too – not necessarily taller, but definitely broader. He was definitely an intimidating man, whih was hilarious because James knew him, and knew that he would never intentionally harm anyone that wasn't out to harm him. When he'd first come to the school he'd idolized the older man. He'd had a knack for causing mayhem and coming out of it unscathed. He knew that in his entire time at Hogwarts the Scot had served only four detentions, despite probably having deserved hundreds more, and all four of those had been for duelling with Rodolphus Lestrange.

But then he'd disappeared shortly after his class had left the school, and now here he was, at a hospital in Cornwall of all places. He knew Isaiah's parents were both muggles, but he also knew that Isaiah had come up with a plan to move his family away from the UK before he'd left school. _So what was he doing here?_ James shook his head slightly, "Where have you been? We've wondered about you- Is your family okay? Are you safe?" He had a hundred questions, he wanted to just grab his arm and apparate away with him and force him to answer them all, but he couldn't. Lily was inside, and who even knew why Isaiah was here.

Isaiah shook his head, pressing his fingers to his temples. It was probably more accurate to call James a fan than a friend, but he didn't have time for this. It was ridiculous to think that he'd been the only one to recognize Regulus, and if he wanted his chance to step up, he had to deliver him to Dumbledore, and prove that he was worth more than being saved for a rainy day, when they needed more numbers to fight. He couldn't let James distract him, and so he did his best to distract James. "Congratulations," he'd started, clapping him on the back, "I'm sure the wedding was lovely, and I'm sorry I didn't take the time to send you a gift, but I never did get a chance to see the registry – We'll go for drinks sometime and you can tell me all about it, yeah? Still a whiskey man? I've heard the stories. Listen mate -" He stopped speaking only for a moment, and only to press a finger to James' lips to keep him quiet, "I'm late for an appointment here, and I'm supposed to be in hiding, so it's very important that you don't say a word to anyone that you saw me here. Not even your wife, understand?"

James nodded and then quickly shook his head. He'd opened his mouth to say something the second Isaiah had lifted his finger, but he was fast, and he had disappeared into the hospital before he could even make a sound.

Merlin, he needed another cigarette.

* * *

He had waited until he was sure that Dumbledore had left the corridor before he stepped back out of the room he'd been offered, altogether too curious about the candlelight that came out from beneath the door across from him. He was quiet, hoping for some inkling of sound to signal who was inside, but he heard none. Remus took a breath, lifting his hand and knocking lightly on the door.

He didn't need to wait long for an answer, the door opening inwards, and a young woman poked her head around the corner. He knew her. Rosaline Davies. She'd announced her pregnancy at an Order meeting and had then seemingly disappeared. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing – but perhaps you'd better come in and sit down, Remus Lupin," her voice was still as soft as he remembered, and he listened, stepping in and allowing her to close the door behind him. The room was just like his, though hers was clearly more lived in. The desk was covered in pictures and half written letters, the bedspread seemed as though it was probably one of her own from home, alongside some kind of flannel blanket that he wouldn't have connected to her. He sat at the desk, his back to all of her writing while she took a seat on the bed. He couldn't tell while she was standing, but when she sat he could see the small beginning of her baby bump. "So? Tell me, why are you here?"

He wasn't entirely sure why he was forthcoming with her, letting her know that Sirius had asked him to move out while she tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "As it is now, this is only temporary, a few nights at most. I've been staying with the Potters, but I had information to pass on to Professor Dumbledore that couldn't wait."

She nodded, shifting back on the bed and drawing her legs up. She was a small girl, folding her legs beneath her she could have looked at place in a fourth year divination class, perched on a chintz pillow, were it not for her little bump. He didn't have to ask when she offered rather simply, "I'm here because of this-" she rested a hand on her stomach, rubbing a circle on it, "Not the fact that it happened, but because of who the father is. Dumbledore believes that it may make me a target if anyone were to know."

"Might I ask who?" He couldn't help but ask. He was sure that during his school days he would have been just as at home in Ravenclaw as he was in Gryffindor, inquisitive as he was.

She shook her head, laughing lightly and reaching up again to tuck the hair that fell forward as she looked down behind her ears, "You might ask, but I won't tell. He doesn't know himself yet, and he's found himself in quite a predicament through the war. Until the two of us have come up with a better plan than just hiding away until it's all over you can ask all of the questions you'd like, but regarding my baby, I'll have to refuse to answer." She was very polite, just as he'd always remembered her being at Order meetings, and the few times he'd interacted with her at school.

"I don't mean to be intrusive, Rosaline. I'm sorry." He really was. He hadn't meant to upset her, but still she was smiling and waving it off.

"It's no big deal. I understand what it is like to be lonely. It's why I asked what brought you here even though we're all entitled to our secrets."

He had to agree with her. Since the night that Adhara had arrived with the locket and Sirius had put it on, well he hadn't felt that lonely in years. Even being with James and Lily offered little comfort when they were so on edge as a result of Lily's illness. Really, this was the first polite conversation he was able to have where he didn't have to worry about just how much he was revealing, or exactly whom he was speaking to. If Dumbledore was going to the trouble of protecting her, her heart was definitely in the right place, and her wand on the right side.

"We could be friends, Remus. You're one of the only people who know I'm here, and at least as long as you stay here too, I wouldn't mind having someone to play chess with. As long as you don't mind me keeping secrets, I don't mind you keeping yours. We could forget about the war even for just the few days you'd plan to stay."

He found himself smiling, leaning forward on the chair towards her, "I think I'd like that."

* * *

The fireplace lit up, bright green as the floo network was activated, pulling both Sirius' and Walburga's attention from the notice of death they had been drafting up. Emotions were high in the room as it was, even before Bellatrix Lestrange crossed the hearth. She stormed across the room, not even taking in the fact that there were two people there, only curtly greeting Walburga with an, "Aunt," and a slight nod. Sirius followed behind her, though he kept a bit of distance, pacing behind her as she took the stairs quickly, all the way to the topmost landing.

He had no clue what she could possibly want in his or Regulus' bedrooms. They were the only two doors on that landing, and he cringed when he saw her blast open the door to Regulus' room. He drew his own wand, his grip on the locket tight. He wasn't completely stupid. She was a Death Eater and he was a member of the Order. This wasn't going to end well. He crept closer to the door, hearing her rifle through the room sent him over the edge, and he fired a stunner at her before making himself known, entering in a rage and pulling her up to her feet by the collar of her robes, "I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but you can get the fuck out of this house. You are not welcome here, bringing such disrespect to the dead." He shoved her back, letting her collapse onto the bed as the stunning spell wore off and she summoned the strength to stand on her own.

Her own wand was back in her hand as soon as she could maintain her grip on it, and the two cousins kept their wands firmly trained on the other. Her gaze was harsh on Sirius, clearly judging him, believing him to be far beneath her. "Dead? How would you even know if he was dead? You're no member of this family. You could only know if you were the one that killed him-" A jet of red light flew from her wand, one that Sirius only barely dodged before firing back one of his own.

"I can assure you, _cousin,_ " he spat the last word with pure venom, "That I am more Black than you could ever hope to be." The words felt weird as they fell from his lips, and yet right at this moment, he truly meant them. She dodged his own spell, the red light hitting the post of Regulus' bed and splitting it. The canopy above it fell slightly down the corner, again, only serving to infuriate Sirius at the destruction of his things. This room was really all he had left of his brother. The room and the locket, and the room was being destroyed.

"You're nothing but a scorch on the tree, something to be forgotten and left to the mudbloods – How do you know that Regulus is dead?" She had demanded again, blue light leaving her wand this time. It was too quick for Sirius to dodge, and he felt himself flung up until he hit the ceiling, crashing back down to the floor. He fired an impedimenta at her from the ground, and then a biting jinx, but before he could finish the incantation his wand flew from his hand. He expected Bellatrix to take advantage of this, but as it turned out, she no longer had her wand either.

Walburga stood in the door to the room, all three of their wands clutched tightly in her fist, "That is enough from _both_ of you. I expect you both to maintain some sense of decorum in this house – Bellatrix, do _not_ arrive here unannounced, and do not attack _my son._ Sirius – I certainly expected more of you than to fight in this room. Look at what you've both done."

He listened, and a quick glance around the room left him disheartened. Newspaper articles that Regulus had had tacked to the wall were burning quietly where Bellatrix' spell had missed him, and he knew of the broken bed. Still there were the contents of his drawers strewn around them, the bedspread pulled from the mattress, and a broken broom lying on the floor.

"Ungrateful, disrespectful _wretches,_ " Walburga had nearly spat, disappointed in both of them. "I will finish the announcement myself. You can both leave. _Now."_

* * *

 **REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK**

 **1961 – 1979**

 _Beloved son, brother, nephew, cousin, grandson and fiance_

 _Perished of unknown causes_

 _Information regarding the nature of his death is greatly appreciated by the Noble and Ancient House of Black_

 _Intelligent, Loyal, Strong, Pure_

 _Slytherin House 1972 – 1979_

 _Loved and Missed Dearly_

 _Announcement of Services to follow_

* * *

He woke to the sound of something tapping on the window, cracking an eye to dare and take a look. He didn't recognize it, but that meant very little. Anybody trying to send him an owl wouldn't use one that he could identify or he would just ignore it. He closed his eye again when he saw a figure cross to the window, open it, and take the letter from the bird. Whoever was coming to collect him had arrived.

It was a man, he could tell, someone tall and broad, though he couldn't tell much else from the split second that he'd seen him. He tried to regulate his breathing, keep it more akin to how it would have been were he still sleeping.

"You can stop pretending. I know you're awake – You snore." The voice came from the other side of his bed, and he had to force himself to turn his head the other way and open his eyes. It was dark in the room, and he still couldn't make out who this was, but the accent the man had was thick. He could tell that the man had opened the letter that had arrived and was reading it, but he still couldn't tell just who it was while his eyes were still adjusting. "I searched the room – Where is your wand? I'm not about to let you keep it."

Regulus swallowed, laying his head back on the pillow, "If you're going to kill me you might as well just go ahead and do it instead of dragging it out like this. I'm strapped to the bed, my wand is gone. I can't possibly fight back."

The man laughed, "Kill you? You're insane. You're much more valuable to me – to _us –_ alive. Nobody even knows you're alive 'cept me... Do you know who I am?"

Regulus squinted, and shook his head.

"Figures. Your kind really only notice each other, don't you? Your brother though – he'd definitely know who I am."

Regulus closed his eyes again, shaking his head slightly, "Please, _please,_ just kill me."

The other man laughed, stuffing the letter into his pocket as he stood up, "Look at little Reggie Black, begging a muggleborn to kill him. I already told you – you're much more useful alive. You know far too much to take your secrets to the grave. We're leaving here. Tonight. You'll be coming back with me until I can arrange for you to be moved to Order Headquarters."

Well that at least answered his question of whether or not it was a Death Eater or an Order member coming for him. At least he felt secure in the fact that should his own side come for him now it wasn't anyone that he would consider a friend that would be caught in the crossfire.

"If I were you I'd enjoy that medicine while you still can. I've not got any of this fancy stuff back at my house, and even if I had, I certainly wouldn't waste it on you."

* * *

 _Sorry for the wait guys. The last scene was giving me such trouble. Did not want to get out of my head and I'm still not happy with it. I've got most of the next chapter planned out, even if I've been a little bit busy lately. I promise I'll find the time to write it. - Jessica_


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